In the Closet
by Maribou
Summary: Every tool is a toy if you hold it right... NickGreg slash, my pretties.


**Title:** **In the Closet**

**Rating: NC-17**

**Warnings/Spoilers:** **Slash-o-rama. No episode spoilers. **

**Disclaimer:** **Not my characters. Also, no brushes were harmed during the writing of this dirty little fic.**

**Summary:** **Every tool is a toy if you hold it right…**

**I wrote this for challenge #2 at ngchallenge: "Dirty, Dirty Boys"**

**A huge thank you to geekwriter143 for the beta.**

"Ever been back here before?" Nick asked as he led Greg into a metallic maze of shelves and cabinets with fluorescent lights flickering overhead. It was large, quiet and smelled faintly of styrofoam peanuts and cleaning fluid.

"Nope. I am a supply closet virgin, ready to be deflowered."

"Uh-huh, I bet that's what you tell all the boys," Nick countered.

"Just the ones I'm in love with," Greg poked a finger into Nick's back and was rewarded with a dazzling, Texas-sized smile.

"Strictly speaking, this is the supply room. It's too big to be a closet, babe."

"You would know," Greg teased. They walked past bags and boxes and bins, all meticulously arranged and labeled.

"Don't you like being in the closet with me?" Nick shot back, amused.

"More than you know."

Greg wasn't one to hide, but he liked the thrill of being Nick's precious secret. Nick was always so careful at work, careful when he collected evidence, or drove, or spoke to witnesses. He was selective, choosing just the right word or phrase to tease out an answer from a suspect. In the same way, he was cautious around Greg while they were working; careful to tease him just enough with a well-timed wink or a hot promise cleverly disguised as friendly banter. Careful not to get caught.

Nick stopped, turned and patted the shiny surface of the countertop. "Get your kit up here and let's see your goods."

Greg smiled and did as he was told, although his mouth twitched at the playful innuendo. He watched Nick's skillful hands sort through the contents: bindles, lifting tape, assorted print powder and brushes.

"Like what you see?" Greg leaned closer, catching a whiff of soap scent that made his pulse quicken and his cock twitch.

Nick looked up and licked his lips. "Mmm-hmm. Come here," he grabbed Greg's wrist and pulled him further back into the room to a far corner. "Let's get you what you need, okay?" Greg nodded hungrily and reached for Nick, who quickly stepped back and started pulling things from the shelves – phenolphthalein, swabs, gloves of all sizes -- and dumped them into Greg's arms, barely hiding his smug grin.

"You know," Greg huffed in amazement, "for a good guy, you are so totally evil." He grumbled at the bottles of luminol and ninhydrin that Nick balanced on top of his growing bouquet of CSI paraphernalia. Nick just flashed him an innocent look. _Who me?_

"I'm just teaching you a little lesson here, Greggo," he explained. Greg fixed him with a stare that could only be described as smoldering, and carefully set his new supplies on the floor. He took a step forward.

"Be careful, I'm a quick study." Greg unzipped his work vest and let it slide to the floor. Then he stripped off his t-shirt, and Nick sucked in a breath and felt his skin go hot all over.

"You have to be well-stocked -- every job needs the right tool." Nick struggled to regain control of the situation, hoping to remind Greg that they were, in fact, still at work and in a public place with a very unlocked door. Instead he found himself staring at the smooth skin of Greg's belly and realized that his plan to tease Greg had backfired. Big time.

"I see a tool I need," Greg purred. He stretched his arms up over Nick's shoulders and pressed himself close, grinding his hips. Nick gasped and bucked into him. He tried to grab his waist and attack his bare neck and shoulders, but this time it was Greg who pulled back.

"Just what I was looking for," he crowed, holding up a long, thin print brush from the shelf behind Nick. "I don't think I have one of these yet. Thanks, big bear," he winked and smiled triumphantly.

Nick panted, hard and confused. He knew he should take the out, wait for Greg to put his damn clothes back on and go back to being CSI Stokes. But there was Greg, half-naked and grinning like the naughty thing he was, and it was taking every ounce of control Nick had not to wrestle him down to the ground and…no, no, NO.

They stared at each other, eyes dark with desire and challenge and the electrifying risk of discovery. And then Greg slowly cocked his wrist and brought the tip of the print brush to his own chest. Nick watched as the brush whispered over Greg's bare skin, across his nipples and down the ladder of his stomach muscles. He groaned and closed his eyes.

"The door, it's…the," Nick tumbled over the words as he felt the brush suddenly against his neck, swirling softly, sending hot tingles straight to his balls and belly. His eyes flew open and he was begging now. "It's not _safe_."

Greg looked around and cocked his head.

"Please," he scoffed. "We're surrounded by latex. What could be safer?"

Nick laughed raggedly, his heart ready to burst with tender fury, and he knew he was lost. He grabbed Greg and kissed him hard. There was the sound of a brush clattering to the floor, then breathing, moans. A tongue licking up and down his neck, fingers pinching his nipple. He shouted and Greg clamped a hand over his mouth.

"Sign of struggle," Greg noted, and pinched him again, harder this time. Nick bit his fingers.

"Goddamnit, Greg," he fumbled with his belt buckle, hands shaking as he shoved his pants and boxers down over his hips. "Please," his voice was hoarse.

"Please what?"

"Please…ahh," he dissolved into a low, writhing growl as Greg sank down and took his balls in his mouth. He heard the snap of a glove, and there was a smooth finger pressing into him. His head fell back.

"Fuck," he breathed.

"You got it, baby," came Greg's voice, his hot breath a caress. He grabbed the print brush from the ground and dusted it over the ridges of his cock. Nick shook, then went utterly still as Greg replaced his gloved finger with something thin and long sliding into him. The brush, Greg was fucking him with the brush. Oh, god.

"Oh, GOD," he barked as the handle hit him in just the right place.

"Point of disturbance." Greg observed. Nick was shaking again, this time with laughter, so hard he couldn't breathe, couldn't make a sound until Greg sucked on him, and then he was crying with laughter, jagged with release, pumping his hips and coming, coming, coming.

Somehow he held himself up against the shelves as Greg licked him clean and tucked him back into his pants, zipping him up. Then he sank down to the floor and pulled Greg to him. He sagged against him, resting his head on his shoulder.

"You are so hot," Greg hugged him. "I came in my pants. That was amazing."

"Supply closet virgin, huh? _You're_ amazing," Nick shook his head, staring at Greg with soft eyes. "I love you."

"I love--" Greg was cut off as Nick kissed him senseless.

"Nice try," Nick said, licking his lips, tasting himself from the kiss. Greg watched a wide, bright smile stretch across his face. "You just want me for my DNA."

(fin)


End file.
